


Nice to Meet You! (We’re Related)

by Ren_Kier



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Fluff, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Luther’s on thin ice, Platonic Relationships, Sad and Sweet, Sibling Bonding, Swearing, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, but there’s no incest, idk why this needs to be said, the apocalypse doesn’t happen, who needs the sparrow academy? nope that’s not happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren_Kier/pseuds/Ren_Kier
Summary: They made it back, and everything is okay. They’re all together. And the timeline is messed up, it’s hard to say where everything is and what they need to worry about - but it’s over.It’s over, and they’re tired, and things like saving the world can wait for a little while (and if they’re lucky, they won’t have to do anything like that ever again).In an empty mansion, they rest and recuperate. They are going to be okay. And maybe, they’ll figure out what it means to be a family again.(Not that they were before.)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 134
Collections: The Umbrella Academy





	1. Marshmallow Pancakes and Morning Coffee

They are all the same age.

Vanya remembers this, but it doesn’t feel like it. After all, they are all numbers. Number One is the oldest. And she, Number Seven, is the youngest.

They were all born at the same time, on the same day - but they are still their numbers.

She hates it, sometimes.

At one point, she’d thought she’d moved on. She clung to her music, to her little apartment and her ordinary (how she still hates that word, but it’s not that bad, not after everything that’s happened to her recently) life. It was enough, she’d told herself.

It wasn’t, really. It was... her attempt to run away. It was always an attempt to run away.

So, she’d never moved on, not really.

She finds herself sitting on her old bed, staring at the wall. The memories aren’t good, and they make her chest tight, but she breathes through it. She’s _fine_. She’s fine because she know herself, and she hasn’t forgiven her family fully, but she still loves them. (Most of them.)

They’ve all just gotten back (Ben is gone, but he always was, really - none of them acknowledge it, not yet) and they’ve agreed to stay in the mansion for now. Together.

“Bad things happen when we’re left on our own,” Diego had said. “Why don’t we just... stick together? Team Zero. We can figure it all out later.”

None of them had really argued. Although Vanya thinks it’s because they’re all tired. A few years in the wrong timeline (and she wishes that it was the _right_ timeline, because for once it almost felt like she belonged, but even that was a lie) will do that to people.

It’s been one night. She thought Klaus no longer drank, but she saw him in the liquor cabinets earlier. She wonders if she should’ve stopped him.

Diego is with Mom. She knows that he’s probably still there. Maybe Mom carried him to bed by now. But she doubts it. She wonders if he’ll be able to sleep again, without fear that their Mom will get hurt somehow.

Vanya wonders if any of them will be able to sleep again.

She certainly wasn’t able to. She’s been staring at this same wall for an hour or so.

And then she realizes that she can see more details on the wall than before.

It’s getting lighter.

...Well. Shit. No wonder she’s so stiff.

Vanya gets up, wincing at the way her muscles protest and at the loud creak of her old mattress. She wanders down the halls, the grey-blue of dawn filtering through the windows and casting dim shadows on the furniture.

She wanders up to the second floor, because she’s not hungry yet and she wants to check on Diego. (Luther is somewhere. She hopes she doesn’t run into him. He’s not going to lock up her up anymore, but she doesn’t know for _sure_ and it makes her feel like throwing up to even think about it.)

Instead of Diego, she hears clinking. She finds Five at the bar, mixing a drink and looking exhausted.

Abruptly, Vanya remembers that Five is no longer the same age as the rest of them.

Five is... forty? Something? Definitely older than twenty-one, so it makes sense that he’s drinking. He also knows how to _make_ a drink.

Vanya isn’t a big drinker. It never mixed well with her pills before.

She slips into the seat beside Five and says, “Good morning.”

”Is it?” Five sighs. Vanya notices that he’s not drinking his drink. In fact, she realizes that the bottle on the counter still almost full. Five tips the glass and glares at the swirling amber liquid. “You know what? At least there’s no threat of the world ending. _Yet_ ,” he mutters. “So, sure, Vanya. Good morning.”

Vanya remembers this part of Five. He’s always been remarkably grumpy.

She doesn’t take offense at his words.

He tried to spare her the pain of knowing that she caused the apocalypse, after all. Back in the cornfield. And then, of course, Luther ruined it. But it’s the thought that counts.

Also, it _is_ pretty early in the morning.

”Are you hungry?” she asks.

”Nope.”

”Do you want to help me make breakfast?”

At this, Five straightens and looks at her a little incredulously. “ _Make_ breakfast? Have any of you actually made your own breakfast before?”

Vanya tilts her head. “I lived on my own for a while, Five. And so have the rest of them.”

”Right. As if Luther, or Diego, or even Allison could make a decent quiche. Or maybe eggs Benedict?”

Five is staring at Vanya, one eyebrow raised. Vanya stares back.

”I can make marshmallow pancakes,” she says with a straight face.

Five blinks. “Oh.” He seems to consider it for a moment. “I don’t think we have box mixes in this house.”

”From scratch. Sissy taught me how.”

His face falls when she says ‘Sissy,’ and Vanya briefly feels a little bad for unintentionally guilting him. And then he agrees to help her with breakfast, and she files the information away for future bribes and blackmail.

When Mom comes into the kitchen (right on time - still running on a schedule), Five tells her to go away. They’re in the middle of spooning batter onto the pan, and Five has finally managed to make a neat little circle.

Mom only smiles. “You’ll need eggs and bacon with that, silly!” she laughs.

Vanya notices that she doesn’t tell them to stop. And she properly acknowledges what they’re doing, even though it’s not anywhere in her set programming.

Maybe Mom is getting better.

She’s happy for Diego. Out of all them, Diego loves Mom the best. This will do wonders for him.

At the end of it, the kitchen smells like breakfast. It’s amazing.

Five “sampled” some of the marshmallow pancakes, but they still have exactly seven pancakes left, so Vanya just asks him to promise not to eat anymore.

He raises an eyebrow and says nothing, so Vanya tells him that if he eats anymore before the others come down, she won’t make them again.

“How old do you think I am?” he snarks, but he stays away from the pancakes after that. Vanya makes another note in her steadily growing mental folder of “How to Bribe and Blackmail Five”. It’s a small folder, but she decides to keep tabs on it. Five is the sibling she knows the least, after all, and this seems like the sort of thing she would want to remember.

(That’s a lie. Vanya hardly knows any of her siblings. She knows their powers. She knows their trauma. She doesn’t know the important things, though, and she wonders if that can ever be fixed.)

She goes to the liquor cabinets, because that’s where she saw Klaus last. The liquor cabinets are not by the bar. They’re in a room on the ground floor, and when she gets there, she finds the bottles exactly where they should be. And no Klaus to be found.

For a moment, Vanya is afraid that he ran away. Out in the middle of the night.

But she shakes the fear away, because if Klaus left, she won’t be able to do anything about it. Instead, she decides to search the whole house. Just in case he’s still here. (The last time her siblings forgot about Klaus, his eyes got worse. Emptier. And no one ever talks about it.)

She finds Allison in her room. The woman smiles sadly at her, and they hug. “Breakfast is ready,” Vanya says, and Allison laughs when she tells her about Five and the marshmallow pancakes.

Diego is in the living room. He’s staring at the antlers that hang on the wall. Vanya tells him that breakfast is ready. She asks him if he’s seen Klaus.

”Went down into the basement,” Diego says, standing and stretching. He’s changed into casual clothes, and Vanya can’t remember the last time she’s seen him looking so ordinary. (Clothes from the late 1960’s don’t count.) He pauses. “How’s... Mom?” he asks.

Vanya wonders why he’s asking, when he’s surely been with Mom all night. And then she remembers that Mom doesn’t sleep, doesn’t have her own room.

She understands, suddenly, why Diego might have avoided Mom last night. While Mom was charging.

”She made eggs and bacon,” Vanya says. She adds, “Five and I made pancakes.”

Diego looks surprised. “Pancakes? With Five?” When Vanya nods, he grins. “I didn’t think he had it in him. I gotta see this.” He turns and leaves, and Vanya is relieved.

She avoids looking at the antlers as she makes her way to the basement.

There are lots of things in the basement. The mansion is huge, and it was all used for things she doesn’t want to remember. But when she’s searched most of the basement and found nothing, she finds herself staring at the hallway that leads to her cell.

It scares her.

Why would Klaus be there? There’s no point in her checking.

Vanya takes a deep breath. Just one look, she tells herself. She doesn’t have to get close. She just has to look, and then leave. Maybe Klaus got drunk somehow. Maybe he’s lost. All she has to do is look.

When she finds Klaus in front of her old cell, sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, she feels relieved that she didn’t walk away.

”Are you asleep?” she asks, and even though she tries not to, her voice shakes a little.

”No.”

”Breakfast is ready.”

Klaus opens his eyes then, and they’re bleary and unfocused. He hasn’t slept either. “I never said sorry,” he says.

”...For what?” Vanya asks. She keeps her voice soft. It’s too early in the morning for accusations, no matter how unintentional they might be.

”For not trying harder.”

Vanya considers this.

It still hurts.

She holds out her hand. “Pick somewhere good for lunch, then,” she says.

Klaus looks up at her.

”Lunch?”

”Unless you feel like cooking,” she teases, and Klaus rolls his eyes. He takes her hand and lets her haul him up.

”For your information,” he says as they walk away from the cell, his hand still holding hers (It’s dark, and the contact helps. Maybe he knows that. Maybe he needs it too.), “I can cook perfectly well.”

Theres no bite to his protest, though. It’s because they both know that Klaus can cook. But her request means that they have plans to leave the house, and plans to leave the house are always good things.

They arrive at the breakfast table. Five’s plate is halfway empty. Diego is eating much slower. And Luther’s food is gone.

Vanya sits next to Allison, who waited for them, and Klaus sits next to her. Vanya also happens to be as far away from Luther as she could manage. It all works out very well, and she ignores the knowing look that Five sends her way.

Brekafast is delicious. The pancakes turned out well, and Vanya feels proud.

(It was a lie, that Sissy taught her how to make marshmallow pancakes. She taught her how to make blueberry pancakes. But Vanya still remembers making peanut-butter-and-marshmallow sandwiches for Five, and marshmallow pancakes was the closest thing she could think of.)

Eventually, Luther sets his fork down and sighs.

”We should... have a game plan,” he says. He sounds tired.

Well. They all are.

It’s quiet for a moment. Mom is washing the dishes in the background, the running water filling the tense silence.

Klaus looks annoyed. “A game plan? For what?” he asks, scowling.

“Guys,” Allison says. She holds up her fork, waving around a piece of pancake. “It is breakfast time. We can talk about this later, okay?”

“We should figure out what we’re going to do from here,” Luther presses, and he sounds a little sad and a little empty, and Vanya decides to take pity on him. Just a bit.

“Klaus and I are going out to lunch,” she says.

Diego takes a bite of bacon. “Sounds nice. Am I not invited?”

“You,” Klaus says, pointing his butter knife at Diego, “are invited as long as you stop talking about the president.”

Diego rolls his eyes. “No promises,” he mutters, but he’s smiling a little. Then he turns to look at Mom. She’s drying the dishes, her back to them. “Hey Mom,”he calls to her, “Wanna come with?”

The silence is back again. It feels louder.

Mom turns to them, smiling. “Your father wouldn’t want me to leave,” she says brightly. It hurts to hear her say that.

Without thinking, Vanya says, “We’d love to have you along, Mom.”

Klaus grins. “Yeah! No one’s cooking could compare to yours, but it’d be nice to get out of the house.” He waves his hands around, saying, “We could go anywhere. Thai food, fast food, or maybe just cake-?”

Mom blushes. “Oh, thank you,” she says.

And then she smiles. “Well. I suppose your father isn’t around anymore, is he?” Her tone is exactly the same as before - cheerful and bright.

Vanya can’t blame her for not being sad.

(None of them have been fair to her. She was a prisoner too.)

Allison sighs. “I’m... heading to the airport in a few hours.“

Luther looks at her, a wounded expression on his face. “So soon?” he asks. Vanya remembers how close they were, before, those two - she wonders if they still are.

Allison takes a deep breath. As if she was expecting this. “I need to get back to Claire,” she says. Her voice is steady and strong. “I called her last night. She’s doing well. And... her dad decided to let me visit.”

She stares at her coffee. “I’m lucky. I’m not going to miss this chance.”

Silence. Then -

“I’m glad. Tell Claire I said hi,” Luther says.

Allison nods, just slightly. “I will.”

They’ve been lost in time for a while now. Things are weird, with them trying to navigate their new “normal”... whatever that is.

Vanya wonders if she’s missed any appointments with her students.

When’s the last time she’s held a violin?

She understands Allison’s need to rush back home. It’s been a year, maybe more, for her sister. She’s had a husband in that time, someone she truly loved. And now that is gone.

Of course Allison wants to be with her child.

“A bit off-topic,” Diego says, “but while we’re all still here, we should talk about it.” He takes a sip of his orange juice (and he looks a little disappointed when he drinks it - it must’ve been Mom who poured it for him) and says, “What are we going to do with the house?”

“Who _cares_ about the damn house?” Klaus mutters.

Luther looks pained.

Of course. He was the one who was here the longest.

Vanya wonders if he wants to defend the house. And by extension, their father. If it’s a habit that he can’t break out of.

She’s grateful when he doesn’t say anything.

“Well,” Five says, and all eyes snap to him, “I think we should tear it down. It’s a depressing shithole, anyhow.” He lifts his mug in a mock toast. “If we do it right, we could rebuild something better. Or sell the property. Whatever.”

That‘s probably the most positive thing she’s ever heard him say.

Klaus, beside her, nods. “Could turn it into a shelter,” he says.

Diego points at Klaus. “Seconded.”

Allison slings an arm around Vanya’s waist. “I couldn’t care less,” she says, leaning into Vanya, “But tearing it down sounds like a start.”

Vanya leans back. There’s a lot of complicated feelings, but she’s glad her sister is still here and still loves her. “It does,” she agrees. “But we don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Allison is going to leave in a few hours,” Diego points out.

Five sighs, loudly. “As much as I want to believe that you idiots are familiar with the technology of your own time period, you realize that there’s such a thing as video calls, right?”

Diego has the decency to look mildly embarrassed.

“Besides,” Vanya says, “Where’s Mom going to live?”

And then Diego winces. “Right,” he mutters. And that’s the end of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am— so invested in The Umbrella Academy. And I know TV shows add drama to keep the story going, but... I think it would’ve been fine to end it without dropping Sparrow Academy into the mix.
> 
> It would’ve been nice to watch the siblings heal. And fix themselves, together. So— yeah, that’s what this is.
> 
> Also, no I don’t like Luther, but I’m not gonna be mean to him either. He’s an abuse victim like the rest of them - but he’s doing that thing where he picks up traits of the abuser, so he’s on thin ice.


	2. I Think This Needs Bagels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... personally don’t like coffee. It’s bitter :/ But all the characters like coffee (or seem like they’d like coffee) so here we go. Coffee.
> 
> It’s pretty hard to write from Five’s perspective. I don’t want him to be mean (because he loves his family) but not too nice (because let’s face it, he’s not nice). Probably not gonna try that again.

Five drags them all to the car.

Not all of them - Allison takes a taxi to the airport, and Luther goes with her to send her off - but Diego, Vanya, and Klaus come along for the ride.

He’s mildly pissed that he’s managed to stay stuck in his thirteen-year-old body. But he has no intention of time traveling again, so he’ll have to make peace with it. _For now._

Unfortunately, that means he can’t drive. Not until he manages to look old enough to pass for something resembling legal driving age.

“Who’s driving?” Klaus asks, grinning. He sits in the back, leaving the three of them to figure it out themselves.

Five sits in the passenger seat, because he may not be able to drive, but he’s not about to sit in the back like a child. That leaves Diego and Vanya, who look at each other awkwardly.

“I can drive,” Vanya offers.

“Yeah,” Diego grunts.

They all settle in, and as Vanya starts the car she asks, “Where are we going?”

“Library,” Five answers.

Vanya starts driving. The streets are filled with the usual morning traffic, but she navigates it fairly well. Five takes a moment to think about the fact that his sister has lived a whole life without him.

Well, so has he.

He leans back. “I’d like you guys to help me with something, when we get to the library,” he says, staring out the window.

It’s all very cold and busy outside. Typical.

“Help with what?” Diego asks. He sounds curious. Ever the mission seeker, that one. Although it’s not like Five doesn’t understand where he’s coming from.

“Checking the history books.” Five pauses for a moment. He needs to make sure he doesn’t sound obsessed. He’s _not_. He’s just concerned about his family’s safety. Has been since - too long ago to remember.

“Things are obviously different,” he continues. “The house is in one piece. So, from there, we can assume that the apocalypse simply never happened. But Claire exists. So that the timeline is different, but similar.”

Diego nods, the movement visible in the mirror. “So you want to make sure it’s not different in a way that matters,” he says.

“Yes.” And then, because they’re together and he’s been wanting to know, “Have you seen Pogo?”

Vanya’s knuckles go white on the steering wheel.

Klaus just shrugs. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Me neither,” Diego adds, his voice carefully neutral.

Five isn’t stupid. He _saw_ Diego staring at the antlers. And he’d seen Pogo, the day he warped into the apocalypse. The sight of the monkey’s corpse wasn’t pleasant.

The mansion isn’t destroyed, because the apocalypse never happened.

So, by default, Pogo should still be alive.

These were the kind of inconsistencies that bothered him.

Five sighs, shoving it to the back of his head. “Obviously, we’re lucky that we managed to avoid the apocalypse. I’d just like to avoid anything else that might try to tip the scales against.”

“Fighting our destiny and all that, huh?” Klaus says airily. “Sounds fun.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Vanya says, her voice tight. Mentioning Pogo probably did that to her.

They pull into the parking lot of the library. Vanya cuts the gas and they sit in silence, staring at the imposing building.

As one, the siblings all pile out of the car and enter the building. The history section is on the third floor, and Five assigns them different time periods. 1960 through 1980 is Diego, Klaus gets 1981 to 2000, and Vanya tackles the years 2001 through 2020.

Five lets himself bounce back and forth through the different decades, because let’s be honest, he plans to double-check everything anyway.

“Why can’t we just look this stuff up?” Klaus complains at one point.

“Because we don’t know which events changed, and which ones matter in the first place,” Five replies. His tone is sarcastic, but not biting. Because it’s a decent question, a reasonable one.

But he trusts the library more than the internet. Which is probably the fifty-eight-year-old in him talking.

Surprisingly, Vanya is the first to find an irregularity.

“Hey... guys?” She holds up a book. “I found something. Written by... Harold Jenkins.”

“Oh, ew,” Klaus says. “Your ex the serial killer?”

“Um. Yeah.” Vanya looks incredibly uncomfortable, but continues, “You should see the title.” She passes it to Five.

He gives the cover a cursory glance. “... _The Child Heroes_.” He cocks his head, flipping the book over. He eyes the summary, then reads it aloud, “This book explores the cruelty of creating child soldiers. Although it is considered unethical and immoral, the practice continues in the form of the so-called ‘heroes’ of the Umbrella Academy.”

Five looks up to see his siblings. They look confused.

Klaus blinks, slowly. “Child soldiers?” he echoes.

Diego scowls. “I don’t remember anything like this being written,” he says, coming closer to peer over Vanya’s shoulder.

And that’s the thing - _no one_ has ever written anything like this. No one would _dare_ imply that the Umbrella Academy was wrong. Because of money and connections - but also, to the steadily crumbling world, they were heroes.

The public questioned Reginald Hargreeves, sometimes. They wanted to know what he was preparing for. How the children were involved. What he planned to do next.

They never questioned his methods.

Not in a published book like this.

Even Vanya’s memoir - it was treated as a curiosity. A conversation piece.

Nothing more.

Five looks at the book in his hands, then silently passes it to Diego. “This is something to look into,” he says. “Keep searching for other anomalies. I’ll... work on this.”

“Do you need any help?” Vanya asks.

Five considers the question. “Not yet,” he says.

He sits down at a computer and gets to work. Within seconds, he’s pulled up hundreds of articles that discuss the book _The Child Heroes_ , question the legality of the Umbrella Academy, and analyze the conditions that the children have been raised in.

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

They’re all old articles though, dated back to five or six years ago, so Five breathes a little easier. At least it’s not a current debate.

Still. Since when was it a debate in the first place?

The answer, he finds out with a little more digging, is since the year 2003. It really picks up 10 years later, though, when _The Child Heroes_ is published.

Not more than a year after that, Vanya’s memoir - _Extra Ordinary_ \- becomes a big hit.

It’s the impact of both of those books, written so close to each other, coming out at nearly the same time - the impact is different. It doesn’t last, nothing ever does, but the public actually acknowledged that Reginald was... wrong.

Five rubs his eyes. _Fascinating_ changes in the timeline, to be sure, but it was starting to give him a headache.

“Found something else,” Diego says, and all eyes turn to him, but he sounds resigned. He holds up a magazine. “Look at this. A study on supernaturals - Vanya’s escape didn’t go unnoticed.”

Vanya reaches out and takes the paper. “No records recovered,” she reads. “Theories and eyewitnesses piece together a fragmented story - yeah, this is me. Those stupid state rangers must’ve said something.”

“State rangers?” Five asks, standing and leaning over to look at the magazine. It’s dated around the early 1970’s - harmless, then.

She sighs. “I got caught by the government because I was careless. My... Sissy’s husband called up the state rangers. I used my powers, but I got distracted.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Diego mutters. He sits back and eyes the bookshelves. “Other than that, I didn’t see anything noteworthy.”

“I found nothing,” Klaus adds. “Not that I’m really into history in the first place. But still.” He waves a hand. “Could use a break from this dusty, musty stuff. Can we get bagels? I’m craving bagels.”

“I doubt you guys managed to go through _all_ the newspapers,” Five remarks. Not to mention, they haven’t even touched the actual archives yet. He was planning to visit those later.

But - you know what, why not? He glances at the computer to check the time, and the numbers 10:32 am greet his gaze.

“Sure,” he relents. “Let’s get some bagels. Vanya, bring that book to the front, please - I’d like to read it while we eat.”

He ends up driving his family to Starbucks.

Klaus is giggling in the backseat the whole time, but Vanya and Diego don’t seem to mind. Five just stares straight ahead, mentally pretending that he looks his age and everything is fine.

He flips off a traffic cop as they pass him by. It feels good.

They all get bagels and cream cheese and coffee, and then they sit in a corner and eat while Five reads the book.

Vanya makes a comment about how it’s almost lunchtime. Klaus protests that it’s clearly not yet 12:00 and that they’re going to have a proper lunch with Mom when the time comes.

“And I’m going to pick an amazing place to eat at - just watch,” Klaus huffs.

“As long as it’s not that taco place with the bell pepper on the sign,” Five interrupts.

Klaus looks at him, wide-eyed. “Why not?”

“The food lasts for years. I’m sick of it.”

Diego makes a face at that, and the rest seem to understand the implications of Five’s words. Five turns a page as Klaus rolls his eyes.

“Wasn’t planning on it anyway,” Klaus says casually. “Thinking more... _cheesecake_. Or cake in general. Maybe a bakery.”

“Real food for lunch,” Vanya says.

“Cake _is_ real food!” Klaus pouts. He groans and adds, “I was just kidding. There’s a place with good cheesecake near the mall, but it’s got sandwiches and stuff.”

Five takes a bite of his bagel. Vanya had spread the cream cheese on it for him, layering it on thickly. It tastes good.

“What’s the place called?” Diego asks skeptically. “The mall food sucks, you know.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “ _Near_ the mall, not in it. I’ll show you later, trust me, it’ll be fine.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Five says.

His brothers and sister look at him in surprise.

“Oh, spare me those looks.” He bookmarks his spot with a napkin and looks at his siblings. “Anyway, I‘m halfway through this. It’s quite interesting.”

A pause.

“Dude,” Diego says quietly, “It’s been half an hour. How many pages is that?”

“135 pages so far. Quite short, really.” Five puts the book down. “From what we‘ve gathered so far, the only real things that seem to be different is the Umbrella Academy’s reputation and the existences of certain people.”

Diego nods. “The Umbrella Academy became something of an urban myth,” he says. “People knew it existed, but when we became less active, it got less interesting.”

“Fame is fleeting,” Klaus chuckles.

“But the topic of us being ‘child soldiers’ wasn’t really a widespread thing,” Five continues. “Something changed.” He taps a finger against the book. “Harold Jenkins, for starters, seems to be alive.”

A chorus of “WHAT?” came from his siblings, and he’s forced to tell them to shut up before the store calls security.

“Looks like he’s not a serial killer. _This time._ Our little stalker seems to have had a change of heart, and he ended up as an advocate against child abuse. Specifically, _our_ child abuse.”

They go quiet at that.

Five feels quiet himself.

Because, putting it like that, they _were_ abused. And he’s willing to bet that not one of his siblings (except maybe Allison, because of her situation with Claire) has ever gone to a therapist.

He wonders if they’ve even thought about trying.

“So, what, he’s a good guy now?” Diego says, disbelievingly.

Five shrugs. “Who knows? Could still be a psychopath for all we care. Point is, he’s the biggest change so far. If we don’t find any other leads, we might have to follow up on what he’s been up to.”

“Do we have to?” Klaus whines. “We’re back, everyone’s alive, hooray! Why bother with - some whacko like him?”

“That _whacko_ ,” Five almost hisses, “Got us all killed in a different timeline.”

Vanya looks at the ceiling.

“And besides, if we want our lives back,” Five says, a bit calmer (he’d like to stop being angry all the time, but his siblings make that unnecessarily difficult), “We have to make sure all the loose ends are gone. Otherwise, we might end up getting blindsided by something fatal.”

Klaus sighs loudly. “That sucks,” he groans.

“Life sucks,” Diego agrees.

Vanya sighs.

“Can I see that?” she asks, reaching her hand out.

“Sure.” Five hands it over. “Just don’t lose my spot.” (Not that he’ll forget the page number.)

She flips through the book, frowning. “The first part... is about his childhood,” she says. She’s quiet, but Five hears something dark in her voice as she continues, “Apparently he was abused as a kid... it segues into his desire to join us, and his subsequent - what was it? His change of heart?”

“Man,” Diego says, “he sure was messed up.”

Klaus chuckles. “Like _we_ weren’t,” he murmurs, stealing the rest of Diego’s cream cheese. Diego stops and stares, some sort of detached horror on his face, as Klaus eats the cream cheese by itself.

Frankly, Five doesn’t care. But it _is_ pretty funny to watch Diego suffer.

“We should pick up Mom,” Vanya says, out of the blue, and Five realizes that she‘s looking at the clock on the wall.

He resists the urge to bang his head against the table.

It’s an irrational reaction.

It’s _over_. There’s no apocalypse, no looming deadline. They can take their time and relax.

Not that it does anything to ease the sudden feeling of anxiety in his chest, but he’s mature enough to realize when he’s panicking over nothing.

Mostly.

“Yeah,” he says, taking the book back. “Let’s do that.”

Picking up Mom, it turns out, is surprisingly difficult.

For starters, she has no clothes.

Well, she has exactly five different outfits, all tailored to match the creepy, outdated atmosphere of the house. None of them were what would have been called “casual wear,” and after a few minutes of discussion, Klaus declares that he’ll find an outfit to help Mom blend in with the crowd.

This declaration is met with a resounding “no” from his siblings. If only to avoid letting him dress Mom up in anything less than dignified.

“Speaking of casual wear,” Diego says suddenly, and Five has a sinking feeling as his brother turns to look at him, “We should get Five something less... conspicuous.”

Five scowls. “If we’re talking about conspicuous, Klaus would be the problem here,” he points out.

“Yeah, but at least I’m in fashion, bro,” Klaus says, his eyes gleaming. “The Academy uniform is a little bitty bit out of date, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“The solution’s obvious,” Diego says. “Just let Klaus dress you. I had to let him dress me, all because _somebody_ hid my Batsuit.”

“I can’t believe you’re calling it a Batsuit,” Five says drily, “and I did it because we don’t know if you’re still a wanted man. The _Batsuit_ is a dead giveaway if that’s the case-“

“Guys, as much as I enjoy being insulted for my fashion sense-“

“It’s not about the fashion sense, it’s called being goddamn sensible-“

“Can we just go get Mom-“

“Guys,” Vanya says calmly, the way she speaks makes Five look up sharply. He takes a step back, just as a shockwave bursts out from her body.

Five fights the urge to grin at her. Just because he’s proud doesn’t mean he has to broadcast it.

The shockwave is gentle, hardly more than a breeze, but everyone shuts up immediately.

If only they did that when he uses _his_ powers, Five thinks wryly.

“How about I find something for Mom and Five to wear,” Vanya continues. “I’m sure we can find some stuff at my apartment.”

Diego cocks his head. “Do you still have an apartment?” he asks curiously.

“Yep. Everything I could find about myself is still the same,” she replies. Five remembers that he put her in charge of the most recent decades. Makes sense that she’d check up on herself.

And then he frowns. “Why would you have stuff that fits me?” he asks suspiciously, and Vanya grins.

“My students leave stuff behind all the time,” she informs him. “I practically have a Lost and Found in my closet, but they rarely come back to retrieve anything.”

Five has a sudden, terrifying vision of what the modern child wears, and of being forced to wear it.

“Right,” he manages to say. He comforts himself with the fact that what Klaus would have put him in would have been just as bad, if not worse. “I guess... I guess we’ll do that, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you’re wondering, no, Harold Jenkins is NOT going to feature largely in this story. I’m just trying to write my way out of the corner I wrote myself in, and I’m... sort of succeeding?
> 
> But the whole thing about being aware that, “hey, the siblings have serious issues,” is going to be important for what I want to have happen later. So. Published book about child soldiers. That happened. :)


	3. Crackers for a Plane Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn’t mean for this to take so long. I wrote half a chapter of Klaus and the siblings before running out of inspiration. I wasn’t really going anywhere with the story, and that is not the mindset a writer should be in.
> 
> And then I remembered, oh yeah, I’m sending Allison off to see Claire. I didn’t want to neglect her, so when I finally got around to writing her plane ride, this happened.
> 
> Thanks for the kind comments! They kept me going, even though I started getting frustrated with the writing :/

The night before, Allison called Patrick.

“I’m coming back. To see Claire,” she’d said, her voice shaking.

It was the first thing she did, once the siblings wandered off in different directions. In a mansion as big as the Umbrella Academy, it wasn’t hard to avoid each other for one night.

Luther had tried to follow her.

She’d told him that she needed some time alone.

Patrick chuckled lightly. “What about me?” he asked, teasingly.

His response was... unexpected. The last time they spoke, he’d been reluctant to let her see Claire. He’d been disappointed in her. Horrified, even. He told her that he never wanted to see her again.

And he had every right to say those things. She’d brainwashed her own child.

Allison had even brainwashed... _him_. Not Patrick. Patrick had been a kind man, and she’d managed to mess up that relationship without being the one to start it in the first place.

No, the thing that was causing her so much guilt... After all the love she’s experienced, and the moral compass she’s managed to grow...

It suddenly occurred to her - she’s let it go on for _years_ now.

God, no wonder she was in therapy.

Or... she _is_ in therapy. It’s the 21st century now. She’s got a therapist and a manager and thousands of fans. She’s Allison Hargreeves, the actress.

Allison Chestnut, civil rights movement leader (as much of one as she could be, anyway) is gone. Lost in time, never to be seen again.

She shook her head, pulling her thoughts back to the phone call.

Maybe she hadn’t hid her desperation well enough. Maybe he could hear the tears in her voice. Patrick had always been kind, and maybe... maybe he was starting to forgive her.

Even though she knows she doesn’t deserve it.

So she said, “Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

He’d said he couldn’t wait to see her, and that she could take her time. She was awkward and hesitant throughout the planning (yes, she would come over as soon as the plane lands - no, she wasn’t going to stop at a hotel, not when Claire would be just a few hours away) but it was okay.

It would be alright.

She needed something to ground her to this time. And Allison missed her daughter. Allison loved her daughter, and she would do anything to see Claire as soon as possible.

The phone call was about to end, and Allison said her good-byes - it was too late by then for her to ask to speak to Claire.

Patrick said, “I love you, see you soon,” and hung up.

She did not sleep for hours after that.

Her ex husband had just told her that he loves her.

When dawn approached, she decided that she must have started dozing off at the end. That her tired brain, starved for love, had started imagining things.

It wouldn’t be the first time. She’s had vivid dreams before, about people who’ve left gaping holes in her heart. They would tell her that they love her in those dreams. And then she would wake up, and remember that they don’t.

Those dreams were worse than nightmares.

She thinks about this. About how much she’s messed up. About how no one loves her in this timeline, not for who she is.

And then Vanya appears in the doorway, her eyes bright.

“Good morning,” Allison says. Vanya doesn’t deserve to have Allison unload on her, not this early in the morning, so Allison tries to smile.

“Breakfast is ready,” Vanya tells her.

Allison nods, then stands up and hugs Vanya. Vanya hugs her back, small arms reaching up to pull Allison closer.

Allison reminds herself that there is someone who loves her. And she loves Vanya. It’s taken a few years, but they have each other again.

As sisters.

The hug lasts for a bit longer.

“Five made pancakes,” Vanya says when they finally let go, and Allison laughs.

“Really?”

Vanya nods. “I taught him how to make marshmallow pancakes. He sampled a few to make sure they came out good.”

Allison laughs a bit more.

It feels good to laugh.

Vanya wanders off to find the rest of their siblings, and Allison walks into the kitchen to find Luther and Five already eating. Luther is eating ridiculously quickly.

She decides to sit down and wait.

The clinking and quiet atmosphere is a little awkward.

And then Diego joins them, and he starts eating so slowly that she wonders if he’s doing it on purpose.

“...Good morning, Mom,” she says, finally, just to break the silence.

Luther and Diego look at her weird. She rolls her eyes at them.

Mom turns, a big smile on her face. “Good morning, Allison!” she says happily. The way she always does. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh...” Allison isn’t sure how to say that she didn’t without worrying Mom too much. “...Yeah.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She goes over to where Diego is sitting. He’s the only one with an empty cup.

Allison kind of just stares as Mom pours orange juice into his cup.

Diego looks down. “...Thanks, Mom,” he says, really softly.

“Of course!” Mom pats him on the shoulder before heading to the sink.

Well.

Mom is the same. It’s... nice.

Allison wonders what happened to Mom in the first timeline. The one where the mansion crumbled into nothing more than flaming rubble.

She hopes Mom never has to know.

Vanya comes back, with Klaus in tow, and they all sit together and eat breakfast. Luther is done by then, but the rest of them enjoy their food.

Some of her siblings make plans for lunch. They invite Mom to come along, which Allison thinks is really nice. She knows that if Claire wanted to go somewhere when she gets older, and she bothered to invite Allison, Allison would be incredibly happy.

As plans are made, Allison breaks it to them that she’s heading to the airport soon.

She tells them that she’s going to see Claire. She can sense the pity from some of them, but no one says anything. Except for Luther.

She won’t let herself give in to Luther. She knows that he’s hurt because she didn’t ask him to come with her. Honestly, she just doesn’t want him to be there.

But when he says he’ll come to see her off, she doesn’t push him away, either.

Because honestly, she also wants him there.

And she’s starting to hate herself for it.

She tells herself that she should fix it. Throughout the tense, silent taxi ride to the airport, she thinks of all the reasons why she should fix it. Allison reminds herself of how _wrong_ it felt to find out what she’d done to Vanya. Of how _good_ it felt to be surrounded by people who liked her for she’d done, and not what she’d rumored them into thinking.

And so, after getting some food (luckily money isn’t a problem now, since airport food is ridiculously overpriced) and making small talk with Luther, she ends up dragging him to a bench and tells him to sit down.

He sits and looks at her. She wonders what he thinks she’s going to say.

She says, “I need to rumor you.”

His eyes go wide.

“It’s the only way I can undo what I’ve done,” she continues. “But this time, I’m asking for permission.”

Luther stares at her.

He’s been quiet for so long. Allison is afraid, because his eyes are starting to look as dark as when he’d locked Vanya way. He’s looking at her as if she’s dangerous.

That’s why she took him somewhere public to do this. Instead of some corner to give him the privacy he deserves.

Because she is afraid of Luther.

She hasn’t had to be afraid of him for a long time. But that wasn’t fair.

“Okay,” he says, finally.

Allison takes a deep breath.

“ _I heard a rumor,_ ” she says, and his eyes go white, “ _that you know just how little you love me._ ”

She chose those words on purpose.

He needs to know that he doesn’t love her. He never did. When they were little, and he was the golden boy who never looked her way, she wanted him so badly. In that house, there were no allies, and no one to love her.

So she’d _made_ him love her.

It was a cruel thing to do.

And that is why she is afraid. Because now he will know _just_ how little he loves her. He hadn’t loved anyone in that house. Everyone was a team member, or they were nobody at all.

The only person Luther had loved was Dad. And he wanted approval more than he wanted love.

Allison is afraid.

She watches as Luther’s eyes focus again. She watches as he stares at her, his jaw clenching and his expression turning hard.

She reminds herself of all the people around her, and that even though not a single person could stop Luther, at least she wouldn’t disappear unnoticed. At least she wouldn’t get locked up the way Vanya did, down in the dark with no one to save her.

Or maybe she would.

Luther looks away.

“I think,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. He stops. Clears his throat. “I think you should go now.”

Allison nods. “I’m sor-“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

That’s fair.

Allison resists the urge to back away from him. She just goes, not looking back. She doesn’t want to know if he’s crying or fuming. She doesn’t know which one would be better.

By the time she gets on the plane, she’s the one crying.

She smiles at the person who checks her ID (ignoring the security guard’s wide-eyed reaction to the name Allison Hargreeves), nods at the attendant as she boards, and sits down in her seat.

Her tears are small, slipping down her cheeks. Tears are almost invisible, and often, people don’t see them at all. As long as she doesn’t wipe at them too obviously, she’ll get away with it.

And then, because that’s how the day is going to go apparently, someone sits next to her and offers her a tissue.

“Oh... thank you,” Allison says, taking it.

“No problem,” the woman says, smiling. “I’ve been sneezing on and off for the past week, so I’ve got a bunch of them on hand. Don’t worry, though! Today’s looking like a sneeze-free day. In case you were worried.”

Allison laughs a little. “It’s fine.” She dabs at her eyes, crumpling the tissue in her hand.

“Um... do you want to talk about it?”

Allison glances at the woman. The woman smiles back, looking awkward and sympathetic.

And then she says in a rush, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I really don’t. I just, if you need someone to listen...”

Allison smiles. “No, thanks, it’s fine. I’ve just been traveling, so I haven’t seen my daughter in a while.” Allison hesitates, then adds, “I’m heading back to see her now. I guess I just got emotional.”

The thought of Claire settles her. She’s going to see Claire. She’s going to be there for her daughter, as much as she can.

The woman smiles. “How nice! I bet she’s looking forward to it.”

“I hope so,” Allison replies honestly.

“If you’re being real with me right now, then I’m sure she is,” the woman says firmly. And even though the woman is probably just saying that, it makes Allison feel better.

The PA interrupts their moment, and both women listen politely as the attendants demonstrate the various safety procedures. Allison is pretty sure that, in event of a real disaster, the passengers will probably be panicking too much to follow any protocol.

When the announcement is over, the woman turns to Allison again. “I’m Eudora,” she says, grinning. “What’s your name?”

“Allison.”

“Nice to meet you, Allison.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Allison says, and she’s surprised to find that she means it.

Eudora smiles and they don’t really say anything to each other after that, but there’s a comfortable atmosphere that Allison rarely experiences when traveling alone on the plane.

She feels a stab of guilt at feeling so calm, even though just minutes before she was dumping life-shattering revelations on her brother.

As the engines start, filling her ears with the sound of roaring, it occurs to her that she’s leaving her siblings to deal with the fallout of what she’s just done.

Allison pulls out her phone and connects to the plane wi-fi. She goes to text Vanya but then hesitates.

What’s she supposed to do? Tell her, _hey remember how I rumored you to forget about a huge part of yourself for most of your life? Yeah, I did that to Luther too! Except on purpose. And now he’s probably mad, so watch out._

That... doesn’t go well, even in her head.

She decides to keep it casual. She should at least stay in contact with her siblings this time around. And maybe... maybe Luther won’t do anything drastic.

 **Allison** : hey, what’re u guys up to?

 **Vanya** : we’re at the library rn. looking up stuff about the timeline.

 **Allison** : the timeline? what do u mean?

 **Vanya** : Five is pretty convinced that the timeline had to change in order to stop the apocalypse. so now we’re going through the history books.

 **Allison** : ...huh. didn’t even think of that.

 **Vanya** : me neither. how’s the flight? airport food any good?

 **Allison** : expensive as usual. brought some on the plane for lunch, they’re probably not gonna give me anything good.

 **Vanya** : i feel for u :(

 **Vanya** : Klaus is taking us to some cafe. he says the cheesecake is super good.

 **Allison** : take pictures for me please!

 **Vanya** : will do. i’ll text u if we find anything interesting :)

 **Allison** : thanks! love u

 **Vanya** : love you

Allison exhales. For a moment, as she waited for Vanya’s reply, she was afraid that Vanya wouldn’t text it back. Which, of course she would. Right?

But at the same time...

To distract herself, Allison decides to join in on the history research. Nothing major, but she looks up her past roles in films, finds the rumor magazines and the websites.

Most of it seems to be the same. She avoids the ones about her relationship.

She doesn’t need a reminder of how much she fucked up.

She thinks about it all the time.

Hours into the flight, after Vanya’s texted her about some book (written by her serial killer ex, who is apparently not a serial killer this time around) Allison starts looking up things from the time period her family has left behind.

1961 was the first year that she entered that time. She reads the articles about the movements, focusing on what she can find about Dallas.

Not much, as it turns out. The movements happened all throughout the nation, and Dallas was a small part of the fight. Not any less important, but not particularly noteworthy either.

She looks up how the movements affected things, how the protests were handled, and what happened to the people in charge.

After lunch (a turkey and apple sandwich from the airport, with some crackers) she gets a text from Vanya.

In the picture, Allison counts ten slices of cheesecake, each a different flavor.

 **Allison** : where is this??

 **Vanya** : i have no idea. Five drove us here and i was too afraid to watch where we were going.

 **Allison** : wait, Five can drive?

 **Vanya** : it was him or Mom and i think Five flipped off the traffic cop as we drove past so we probably chose wrong

 **Allison** : ...

 **Allison** : so what was the place called?

 **Vanya** : the Pillow Diner

 **Vanya** : Klaus got us a slice of each flavor and some sandwiches. they’re actually pretty good. i got to try the caramel and the lemon.

 **Allison** : sounds good. i’m jealous :/

 **Vanya** : haha i’ll take u here next chance we get. have a sister’s night or something

 **Allison** : it’s a promise!

 **Vanya** : Klaus is taking me around the city after this. kinda looking forward to it, i’ve never been out and about much before.

 **Vanya** : he promised to keep it safe, comfortable, and cozy

 **Vanya** : and then we’re going to rent Ghibli movies after, because apparently he’s seen none of them

 **Allison** : that’s awful

 **Allison** : tell me how it goes and which one’s his favorite

 **Vanya** : will do. leaving now, ttyl

 **Vanya** : love u :)

 **Allison** : love u!

That’s when she makes the mistake. She’s happy and relaxed after her little conversation with Vanya. Thinking about her siblings just messing around and eating sounds like a dream.

She decides to find out what happened to Raymond Chestnut.

He’s mentioned in two newspaper articles and an obituary. The newspaper articles are just lists of people getting arrested for protests. The obituary mentions that he has no surviving family, and that he died at the age of thirty-four.

He probably died for the cause.

And he died without any surviving family. That means he never remarried - or never had a chance to remarry.

No. Allison scolds herself silently. Raymond loved her, despite her lies and secrets. He told her that he was happy when he knew her. Even if he had remarried, at least she knows that he would have done it out of love, and he wouldn’t have forgotten her.

Allison presses her lips together. She’s crying again.

She glances at Eudora, but the woman is looking away - whether she’s distracted or being considerate, Allison can’t tell, but she’s grateful either way.

She pulls down the window shade and lets herself cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll probably include the scene with the siblings and their cafe shenanigans in the next chapter. As a bonus chapter, ‘cause it’s half as long as a normal chapter but I enjoyed writing it and I’d like you guys to see it. (Also there will be inconsistencies between what Vanya texts and what actually happens. Please don’t mind it too much.)
> 
> About Luther... I feel that Allison and Luther’s relationship is super unhealthy, and in order to work our way to a happy, healthy timeline for the siblings, that relationship needs to go.
> 
> I know the implication for Allison’s flashback rumor, “I heard a rumor that you love me,” is that she rumored Patrick to love her. But... I think it makes more sense if she rumored Luther. She only ‘loves’ him when she’s lonely or needs someone, and despite his apparent lack of care for other human beings, Luther is mildly obsessed with Allison.
> 
> Sorry for the long author’s note, but I wanted to get that out there.


	4. Into the Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it’s me again. Anyway here’s another cliffhanger, sorry it’s so short.

For the first time in a long time, Ben feels cold.

It is also dark.

Where is he? The last thing he remembers is feeling Vanya’s arms around him, watching his arms disappear in front of him. He remembers the voices, calling him to the brightness.

The light. That’s what Klaus called it.

Ben had always assumed that Klaus was right. The light was the place he would go when he was ready to move on. And he’d finally felt good and ready, so he’d finally moved on.

Now, however, he isn’t so sure.

Why is it so dark?

He lifts his arms, only to find that the space he is lying in is incredibly small. He runs his hands over a flat surface just in front of his nose, feels the shallow walls on the either side, and concludes that, for some reason, he is in a box.

A very solid, very heavy box.

Unease squirms in his stomach. The fact that he can’t phase through the box is disturbing. Sure, he’s always been able to pretend to interact with the physical world, but without Klaus he shouldn’t actually be confined by it.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Klaus! Klaus!”

It’s the only name he thinks to shout. No one else has ever heard him, not in nearly twenty years.

He slams his hand against the surface above him. It’s actually pretty awkward to be lying down while having absolutely no space to move, and he’s starting to get a little scared. “Klaus! This isn’t funny!” he roars.

It’s not. It’s not, it’s not, it’s not-

Klaus wouldn’t do this to him.

Ben slows, stops, and considers this.

He’s always been with Klaus. He’s never resented it - not for long, anyway, and he supposed that everything he’s gotten is because of Klaus. As much as his brother has hurt him, his brother also loved him.

Klaus would never manifest Ben solely to lock him in a box. And as he has this thought, he realizes that he’s lying on cushions.

And then he thinks of how impossible this is, this moment in time where he’s banging on surfaces and feeling temperatures.

He remembers telling Vanya that she’s not a monster. And he would know - he’d felt like a monster his whole life. Even in death, it was hard to shake the notion that he was something wrong.

Ben tentatively feels his stomach.

The Horror has been with him, but in death the hunger was silent. It only stirred when Klaus manifested him, and only lashed out when he forced it to. It had been a nice change from how The Horror had been in life.

It’s almost silent now, too. Except he feels it. He feels it churning within him, a multitude of hungry voices.

It’s not unbearable.

He looks up, the darkness pressing against his vision.

He doesn’t think about what he’s going to do. He just opens himself up, in a way he hasn’t done since that time in the theatre, with gunmen surrounding his siblings and Vanya playing the opening strains of the apocalypse.

Ben closes his eyes, feeling The Horror rip through him, shattering the box - no, the casket - that surrounds his body.

He feels dirt fall against his face as The Horror hungrily eats its way to the surface. Six feet of ground is nothing to the eldritch creature within him. He feels it flail into the sky, grasping at nothing.

Then The Horror rushes back into him, leaving behind a sudden quiet.

Ben shakily rises to his feet, peeling his eyes open.

White, dusty cushions greet his eyes. He balances carefully on them, looking around him to see walls of dirt and some scraggly roots.

Ben looks up to see a bright, blue sky.

Somehow... he’s become corporeal. More than that, he’s in a body.

He’s in his body.

Ben knows better than to hope that he’s still alive. The dead don’t come back to life. That’s just the way things are.

Except his family has just spent some time in 1963, and he’s somehow in his own body.

He looks down at his body. Flexes his fingers. Feels his face. His body is the same. An adult - which is weird, because if he recalls correctly, he died as a teenager.

“Klaus?” he says, and his voice echoes in the courtyard.

Right.

He was buried in the courtyard.

Where is everyone?

He reaches out, touches a wall. It feels sturdy and solid, so he grabs the surface and hauls himself up. It’s an undignified scramble as his feet slide and his arms ache, but eventually he’s standing on the ground instead of in it.

He’ll have to get used to this. If he has time to get used to it. After all, pretending to interact with the world is one thing. Actually existing in it is another.

Ben enters the house. The kitchen is the same, only this time he can feel air on his face and cool countertops beneath his fingers.

He walks through the living room, his footsteps echoing.

He opens the door, the doorknob smooth under his hand.

He pushes the gate open.

He walks forward, still, confused and disoriented by how much he feels.

And then he feels a slam, a sharp pain-

For a moment, Ben is standing over his body. Like an idiot, he had walked into the street and got hit by a car. He hears the voices calling him, and the light faintly tugging from the edge of his senses - a familiar feeling, one he’d long learned to ignore when he was a ghost. Or - is he a ghost?

He follows the light and the voices, and opens his eyes.

For a moment, as he staggers back into the house to avoid the concerned bystanders and the panicked driver, he thinks of Klaus. Of the way Klaus died, but then came back.

“God didn’t like me,” Klaus had told him, laughing.

This is different.

Ben didn’t die. A dead body doesn’t age and grow. It’s like he was in a coma, and he astral projected... or something.

Except even people in comas breathe.

Dead but not.

Klaus doesn’t stay dead. And as Ben compares himself and his brother, he wonders if this is different. If, instead of dying and coming back, maybe he simply doesn’t die at all.


End file.
